


Sorry For Punching You

by jackkellys



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Trans Racetrack Higgins, but Spot doesn’t know okay, kind of a forced coming out?, misgendering for like half the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 00:58:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16608809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackkellys/pseuds/jackkellys
Summary: When Spot heard about some kid, who was not Brooklyn, was selling on his territory, he was furious





	Sorry For Punching You

**Author's Note:**

> hi there is misgendering in this fic, but obviously Spot doesn’t realize it bc well, for one it’s 1899 and most people didn’t? think of things like that? and he’s never met Race before & he just assumes basically. And Race doesn’t really take offense to it because Spot doesn’t know but it makes Race a little sad so :(

When Spot heard about some kid, who was not Brooklyn, was selling on his territory, he was furious. People told him he was being irrational, that due to the amount of Manhattan Newsies he probably had to cross the border a little bit. But to be selling at sheepshead? That was further in Brooklyn, no where near the border. So, Spot was angry not only because this kid was taking His Newsies selling spots (though they told him no one actually sold there) but because he was wasting his selling time to yell at this kid.

Spot practically marched to the Sheepshead Races, ready to fight whatever kid thought they'd be able to sell on his territory instead of their own. Spot found him easily. It was hard to miss a kid who was almost a whole foot taller than Spot and had a stack of newspapers. Of course, the kid had abandoned the papes in favor of yelling at the horses.

"Hey!" Spot shouts, making the kid jump.

The kid slowly turns around with a smirk, "Hey."

The smirk only made Spot more angry. He turned on his heel to a more secluded place. Spot looks over his shoulder to make sure the boy was following him.

"What're you doing on my turf?" He asks, crossing his arms and giving him his famous glare. He knew he was intimidating but this boy was almost a foot taller him.

 

"Technically," The boy speaks up, crossing his arms as well, "It's not your turf."

Spot notices his voice was higher pitched, perhaps a sign of fear. Spot used it as his advantage and took a step forward, "All of Brooklyn belongs to me and my Newsies. It's our turf for sellin'."

"I was told no one sells at Sheepshead," The boy keeps smiling, not even flinching as Spot gets even closer to him, "So it's not your turf."

He got Spot on that one, "You didn't ask to sell here."

"I didn't know I had to? Didn't realize you had to pay to sell," He says, that stupid smirk still on his face.

Spot doesn't know what else to say to that so he balls his hands up in a fist and pulls back. He draws forward, punching the guy in the nose. The kid stumbles backwards, force causing his head to move back and hat fall off. Blonde curls fall from the hat and a bit past his shoulders.

Spot stares in shock, the boy was actually a girl. And Spot just punched her.

"Ow!" The girl screeches, grabbing her nose. "What the hell, man!"

"I—" Spot stutters. "I didn't—"

He takes a step forward, going to help her but she steps back. It's then she notices her hat was gone. Spot watches her panic to look for it and shoving it back on her head, tucking her curls up into it.

"I didn't mean to hurt ya, let's get ya back to the Lodging, I'se can clean ya up," Spot offers, "Or one of the girls can if that makes you—"

"No!" She interrupts, "No...I'm not—" She stops herself. 

Spot notices tears welling up in her eyes and he realizes her toughness was false bravado.

"Come on," He says and grabs her papes from the ground. He takes her hand not covered in blood and leads her away.

He sneaks her easily into the Lodging. Mostly because most of his Newsies were still out selling. Spot leads her to the washroom even though he knew there would be no water until later that evening, around 6pm when all the Newsies began to come back.

“I can’t believe I punched a girl,” Spot mutters as he grabbed a rag (that wouldn’t help much because it wasn’t wet).

Spot doesn’t follow many rules, or have that many to begin and he might look intimidating and that he will hurt anyone but he has one rule: never hit a girl. Men who hit women make Spot the angriest, it happened in his own household. His dad hit Spot’s mom and sister until they left. They left and didn’t even take Spot. Spot shook his head, he can’t be thinking about that right now, especially not after he just literally punched a girl.

He quickly pressed the rag against her nose. She swatted his hands away and held it herself. “I don’t need your help.”

Spot rolls his eyes, “I can walk you back to ‘Hattan,” He offers.

“I can walk myself,” She says and pushes past him.

“It’s not safe for a girl to walk alone in Brooklyn,” Spot notices the way she flinches. 

“I’ll have you know I’m pretty tough.”

“So’s my girls but that don’t mean I let ‘em walk around,” Spot argues.

She flinches again. She tosses the rag on an old wooden table by one of the beds and stomps down the stairs. Spot quickly follows after her, “What’s your name?”

“Racetrack,” She answers and Spot snorts. “What?”

“Nothin’.”

“It’s better than Spot,” She says, “Oh, Spot! How scary!”

Spot rolls his eyes, “Didn’t pick it.”

“Didn’t pick mine neither,” Racetrack tells him. She continues to walk away but Spot keeps following.

“Stop following me!” She groans, “You already punched me in the nose, please spare me by going away!”

“At least I didn’t break it,” Spot rolls his eyes, “And I have to come anyways, explained why I punched one of Cowboy’s girl—”

“I’m not Jack’s girl!” She suddenly snaps, whirling around to face him.

“Woah,” Spot says, “I didn’t mean—”

She interrupts him again, “I’m not even a girl so…just stop!”

Spot notices tears begin to fall and she hastily wipes them away.

“Wha—what?” Spot asks, confused.

Racetrack takes a deep breath, “I says I ain’t a girl…so stop callin’ me one!”

“S—Sorry…I just don’t understand?” Spot stutters.

Racetrack sighs and sits at the edge of one of Lodging beds. Spot awkwardly stands in front of Racetrack, unsure of what to do or say as they cry.

“I’m fine,” Racetrack finally mumbles, “God, how embarrassing. Crying in front of Spot Conlon, King Of Brooklyn!”

Spot just smiles awkwardly. Racetrack takes their hat off and runs a hand through their curly hair.

“So…you is sayin’ you’se a boy?” Spot asks.

“Yeah, yeah I am,” Racetrack nods and suddenly begins rambling. “It’s just…I haven’t been able to cut my hair and it grows so fast and I thought my shirt was big enough so you couldn’t tell because Jack took the bandages because of my ribs and this is so weird and I’m sorry—”

“Oh…” Is all Spot can think of to say. “I—oh.”

“Oh?”

“I gotta get back to Hattan,” Racetrack suddenly stands, “Don’t worry I won’t sell at Sheepshead again. I jus’ Jack told me ‘bout the races and I’ve always wanted to see one…hence the name.”

Spot still is unsure of what to say so he awkwardly clears his throat, “I can cut your hair for you?”

Racetrack does a double take.

“And give you a larger shirt?”

“No—I can’t—” Racetrack stutters.

“I mean, I cut Rafaela’s hair and some of the boys when it gets too long,” Spot explains, “And I’m sure there is an extra shirt somewhere.”

And so Racetrack sat back down and allowed Spot to messily cut his hair. It wasn’t the best, it never was but Racetrack kept thanking him over and over.

“Really, it’s no problem,” Spot says. “I’m sorry for…you know, punching you in the face.”

“It’s alright,” Racetrack says.

“You can sell at Sheepshead…I was only mad that you were takin’ up mine and my Newsies sellin’ time. No one actually sells inside the races, only outside of em,” Spot explains, “And I really didn’t mean to punch you but you were smirking at me as if you didn’t take me seriously.”

“I mean you are quite short and try hard to be intimidating,” Racetrack jokes as he pulls his cap on his freshly cut hair.

“I am intimidating!” Spot argues.

Racetrack only rolls his eyes, “I really have to go now.”

“I’ll still walk with ya,” Spot offers following after him.

He suddenly didn’t want the Manhattan boy to leave.

“If you don’t mind me saying you’re a boy but with the girl parts?” Spot asks.

Racetrack nods, “Well, yes. It’s hard to explain. Understand, really.”

“Do you think that some of my Newsies are..?” Spot asks him.

“It’s possible,” Racetrack nods. “Do you have a problem with it?”

“Would I be helping you if I did?”

“Fair enough,” Racetrack nods. “You know, you are not as mean as everyone says you is.”

“If you repeat that to anyone, I will not hesitate to punch you again,” Spot threatens.

“Oh, so scary!” Racetrack teases and Spot takes a step closer to him. The boy quickly takes a large step away, walking faster on purpose.

“Hey!” Spot protests.

“Keep up, shorty!” Racetrack calls.

“I don’t regret punchin’ you no more!” Spot tells him, “You’se still as annoying as when I met ya!”

“It only gets worse from here,” Racetrack warns him.

Spot groans. 


End file.
